


Virginia Creeper

by raven_aorla



Series: Made to Measure [8]
Category: Gotham - Fandom
Genre: Also Very Creative Ivy, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Asexual Spectrum Ivy, Botanical Inaccuracy, Enthusiastic Consent, F/F, Fluff and Smut, Greenhouse Sex, Light BDSM, Light Bondage, My own spin on Harley, Plant Powers, Porn Without Plot, mild exhibitionism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-24
Updated: 2017-10-24
Packaged: 2019-01-22 04:51:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12473868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raven_aorla/pseuds/raven_aorla
Summary: “It looks a lot like poison ivy, doesn't it? But safe to touch, usually. Grows fast and strong. It’s also called five-leaved ivy, or five-finger.” She waggled her fingers at Harley, who grinned.[Can be read on its own.]





	Virginia Creeper

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you feel better soon, love.

“No, I’m not allergic to Virginia creeper, why are you asking?”

“It looks a lot like poison ivy, doesn't it? But safe to touch, usually. Grows fast and strong. It’s also called five-leaved ivy, or five-finger.” She waggled her fingers at Harley, who grinned. Harley hadn’t asked why Ivy wanted her to come over dressed the way she was, and wasn’t acting impatient about the unexplained detour instead of going straight to Ivy’s bedroom. Harley didn’t understand Ivy’s plants like Ivy did, but she loved them, too. And she reacted to diabolical schemes with delight, not fear.

“You didn’t have all this creeper when I visited your greenhouse last week,” Harley said, trailing her hand across the creeper-covered trellis before looking at the roses. “The roses weren’t budding, either.”

“Riddler got this idea, and he’s been helping me with it for months in secret,” Ivy said in an excited hush. “I got aged up a bunch of years through weird monster powers, right? Turns out some of that potential energy is still inside me. I’ve been working on how to make it happen to plants. Look.”

Ivy stepped over to her rosebush and wrapped her fingers around several stems. She concentrated and the roses skipped ahead to blooming.

“That’s amazing, Ives! This is going to change everything for you, and, and for, like, botany, and…”

This whole thing was a bit of a gamble, especially since Harley was wired so differently from Ivy, but they’d been together long enough that Ivy knew much of what her girlfriend liked and Harley wasn’t afraid to say when she didn’t like something. The key was (considerate) confidence. Ivy snapped off the most perfect, reddest of the roses without stripping off any of the thorns on the generous amount of stem. “Hold this for me in your teeth, Harles?”

Harley blinked but opened her mouth and did what she was told.

“Careful not to hurt yourself,” Ivy murmured. She put her arms around Ivy’s waist and kissed her parted lips. “Over by the creeper. I’ve got something else to show you.”

Oh sure, she had lots of plans to use this new ability to snag enemies and hold them in their tracks. Maybe carrying fresh cuttings to make grow and entwine. This was a gentler, more fun application for the same skills, though.

“No gaping. Keep that rose for me, good girl, and hold still.” With a touch and a thought (and a lot of AIEE IT’S WORKING), Ivy got the vines to grow around Harley’s wrists and ankles. They gently pulled her right up against the trellis before tightening and traveling all the way to her elbows and knees, respectively. 

“Wha’?”

“Oh, you look so pretty. Needs more roses.” Ivy darted away and returned with two more stemmed blooms with more thorns. “They grew literally right now, so they’re clean, right? I need you to hold all of them for me unless I do something you don’t like, then you drop them all. You’re gonna have to be really light-lipped about it to keep from hurting yourself but you are clever and wily and I bet you can do it as long as it’s fun for you. Okay?”

“Uh huh!” Now Harley was getting it. She had a tell-tale excited flush that always started at the base of her throat and expanded to her face and chest when Ivy was doing the right things. She was game for this most cautious of bouquets.

“Awesome.” Ivy kissed her forehead before stepping back to admire her handiwork. Then one touch to a single leaf and the creeper was growing again. To her disappointment, she hadn’t developed the plant motor skills to undo the buttons on Harley’s shirt by vine, so she did that manually. As requested, Harley wasn’t wearing a bra or underwear. Ivy leaned in to tease a nipple with the tip of her tongue and thumbed the other one in rhythm. Harley squeaked and squirmed, even more so when Ivy used her free hand to barely scrape her fingernails across Harley’s lovely soft tummy.

Both of them had scientific minds despite having grown up with different schooling opportunities. The GED and first few semesters of Gotham U. were helping Ivy catch up. Harley was helping Ivy adjust to academia at the same time as Ivy was helping her adjust to the underworld. In a systematic fashion, Ivy had done several investigations with the assistant who was also her subject. 

She knew Harley liked having her hair petted with the occasional tug. Her breasts cupped and caressed but not squeezed. Her collarbone nuzzled. Her neck and shoulders bitten and sucked on but not too much. Fingers following the curve of her spine. A hand slipped down the back of her short skirt after the belt was removed. 

So Ivy did. Nothing Harley said in response was technically a word, though she did say “ow” twice when she accidentally pressed down with her lips. Ivy checked both times to make sure she wanted to keep going. The other sounds were very nice sounds. Ivy could listen to them all day. 

“I’ll be right back,” Ivy promised when Harley was panting and trembling. “Have you thought about how we’re surrounded by glass, and how even though Cat and Bridgit said they wouldn’t get home until after sunset, if they change their minds and come back right now they’ll see you like this? And you won’t be able to do a thing about it? Have you, baby? Hm?”

Harley blushed and nodded.

“You like it? Maybe you slightly don’t like that you like it, but you like that you don’t like that you like it but it’s the situation anyway so you have to like it?” This didn’t make any sense to Ivy, but it made sense to the person it needed to make sense to.

Harley nodded a lot.

Ivy took her eyes off Harley for only a few seconds. She ran back with the foam board she used when really getting involved with flowerbeds. She positioned it on the ground between Harley’s feet and kneeled on it. The vines held the skirt in place when Ivy hiked it up. Harley said something that sounded like swear words. Ivy kissed the inside of her thighs, one side then the other. Symmetry.

Before Ivy realized Cat and Bridgit were better off together and just as her friends, Cat helped Ivy find her way around a clitoris and all the rest. At first Ivy was baffled. When she touched herself there, it didn’t feel much different from touching anywhere else. Maybe slightly more sensitive, but not the revelation it was for others. Eventually Bridgit - who wasn’t in the room for the experimentation but got to hear all about it - suggested Ivy check out Georgia O’Keefe paintings. _“They’re nothing but flowers, Ivy. Think of it that way.”_

Now flowers, Ivy knew those. She spread apart the soft fuzzy “sepal” in front of her and breathed in the warm, salty scent. 

“I used to be jealous of butterflies,” she said, pleasant flirty nonsense, and Harley said more urgent nonsense. Pretty girl, prettier brain, prettiest sounds, Ivy was the luckiest ever. Ivy stuck of her two fingers into her own mouth and withdrew them with a pop. She slid them slowly and easily past what her mind referred to as red-purple petals, up into the warm receptacle. The petals themselves shouldn’t be neglected. She caught one between her teeth with the utmost delicacy. Harley gasped and whined and _so fucking pretty oh my god_.

Give history and sexism today, the clit corresponding to the _stigma_ was darkly funny. The key here was variation. She simply licked at the savory-sweet of it until Harley wasn’t making as much noise anymore, then she tried side-to-side, and swirling, and all that coupled with crooking her buried fingers as part of a slow in-and-out slide. She mostly used her left hand to steady herself, but sometimes she ran a reassuring touch over whatever skin was nearby to keep Harley here with her. Sometimes Harley went into her head where cruel ghosts lived, girls and boys who’d said she wasn’t enough. Poor dear thought that could possibly be true.

When Harley started going, “Nnnnnnnn,” a lot and she was shaking more, Ivy sped up. This wasn’t being a butterfly, this was like being one of those bats that pollinated white saguaro flowers, burying their faces in rare desert blooms. She eventually held Harley’s thighs in place with both hands as well of the vines because it was easier that way. Also Harley liked being trapped (held) and silenced (calmed) because she couldn’t do anything wrong now. Ivy was taking care of her. The gardener and the garden.

All of Harley spasming, finally, tight and tight and tight that coiled spring springing. 

The roses fell to the ground and Ivy got up right away. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m...damn, I’m really great. That was wonderful.” She licked her lips. “Can we move to your room, though? This position’s getting less ergonomic by the second.”

Ivy laughed. “As you wish.” Though Ivy took Harley’s face in her hands to kiss her deeply first.


End file.
